


Slowly I'll Find My Way To You

by tresa_cho



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Cthulhu Mythos, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mermaids, Merman Danny, Multi, Other, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Post S3, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Slow Build, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, Allison, and Scott are dealing with the after-effects of their surrogate sacrifice. Their fragile support system fractures when the lake monster turns out to be a creature of dark legend, and throws the barely recovered pack into action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This fic contains triggers pertaining to suicide and depression. Please do not continue if you feel that you will be affected by in-depth mention of a severe depressive episode.

They had a code word. A safe word.

“I'm going Dark Side,” Stiles said, clenching his phone so tightly his hand ached.

“I'm on my way,” Allison said. Her voice disappeared on the other end, and Stiles closed his eyes.

He cringed away from the light of the full moon, pushing hard against the unyielding structure of his bed. Allison and Stiles didn't have the luxury of a pack to watch over if the darkness struck during the full moon. Scott was with his pack tonight, keeping them in line with his firm, strong presence. It kept his darkness at bay.

A knock rang out from his window, and Stiles jumped to his feet, hand stretching for his bat until he saw who it was. He sighed and stalked to the window. He threw it open.

“Hey,” Allison said with a smile.

“Door. You crazy, ninja freak,” Stiles said.

“This is more fun,” Allison said. She slipped into his room and brushed her jeans off. “Lydia is going to pick up Danny and ice cream before coming. She'll be here soon.”

Stiles opened his mouth.

“Peanut butter.” Allison cut him off. “As gross as that is.”

Stiles smiled, trying to squash the heat prickling the backs of his eyes. Allison took his trembling hands in hers and led him downstairs into his family room, turning on every light as she went. The house was empty. So empty, and the shadows seemed to crawl along his skin wherever he turned. Closing in.

His father worked every full moon after learning their secret, in case something happened. A cop and a nurse in their back pocket had proved extremely useful more than once.

But it left Stiles alone to deal with the aftereffects of their surrogate sacrifice. That's where Allison came in.

Lydia swept through Stiles' front door a few moments later, armed with two bags full to the brim of chocolate and ice cream.

“I couldn't get hold of Danny,” she said, dropping the food on the coffee table in front of Stiles' couch. “He's probably studying. His loss.”

“We're not watching The Notebook,” Allison said. Lydia pouted but didn't protest. “Stiles, what are we watching?”

“Cloverfield,” Stiles said.

He dropped onto the couch and Lydia curled beside him, her warmth a beacon. He blinked furiously to stop the tears threatening escape as she cracked open one of the ice cream tubs. She glanced at him, pursing her lips. “Good?”

He took the proffered spoon from her as Allison snuggled up on his other side. “Good,” he said.

Lydia nodded, as if she had completed a mission objective, and turned her attention to the shaky hand-cam footage of a monster attack on New York.

...*...

It wasn't the first time his dad had caught him in a compromising position. At least this time it was two girls. And not... Scott and Isaac.

“Son.”

Stiles woke to a toe nudging his ribs. He grunted and blinked to see his father standing over him.

“You wanna explain why you have two girls asleep on your stomach?”

“Clothed,” Stiles pointed out helpfully. His father quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We, uh, were watching movies and just- passed out, I guess. Lost track of time...”

“Studying...” Lydia poked Stiles' stomach. “Chem test...”

“Oh yeah. Studying. We did that too,” Stiles said. Wait.

His father was upside down. Stiles craned his neck and saw that he had somehow flipped his legs over the back of the couch, leaving his head dangling over the cushion. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Get up. I'll write you all notes,” Dad said, sighing. “Last time.”

Stiles pushed upright and groaned as all the blood drained from his head. “You said that five times ago.”

Allison and Lydia used the hall bath first. Somehow, Lydia managed to make the clothes Stiles lent her look fashionable, and by the time Stiles had freshened up, Dad was ready to drive them to school.

His father knew something had happened that night with the Nemeton. He didn't know what, but he never questioned the string of sleepovers Stiles suddenly organised. He never asked about the rotating circle of faces- Ethan, Danny, Isaac, and others- and started to keep the pantry stocked with juice and chips. And every time he dropped Stiles and his friends at school, he grabbed Stiles' arm. He said, “You know you can talk to me. About anything.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Stiles said today, for the hundredth time. “I know.”

His father let him go, and Stiles slid gracelessly from the car behind Allison and Lydia. The three of them slunk into English class, looking properly ashamed of their tardiness.

“Dude,” Scott stage-whispered. Stiles rolled his eyes. “You okay?”

“Lydia and Allison took care of it,” Stiles said, his tone considerably less carrying. “How'd your end go?”

“Weird,” Scott said. He pursed his lips. “There was a weird smell, and everyone wanted to just run circles around the lake.”

“Is that not what you normally do?” Stiles asked. Scott smirked and shook his head. “Did you text Derek?”

“What could he do? We don't even know where he is,” Scott said.

“He's in South America,” Stiles said. Scott stared.

“How do you know?”

“That's where Cora was for six years after the fire. She found something down there. Where else would they go?”

“New York?” Scott guessed.

“Too many memories.” Stiles shook his head. “If I were Derek I'd just get as far away as I could. The man's dick is a dowsing rod for evil.” He paused. “I just said that out loud.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Gentlemen!”

Stiles and Scott jumped, and saw the substitute teacher glaring at them. “Care to share with everyone what is vital to discuss during class hours?”

“No sir,” they said in unison.

“Then kindly stop talking,” he said, turning to the front of the room once more. He returned to orating Hamlet's monologue, and Stiles dropped his head into his book.

 

 

Stiles felt like crap from lack of sleep, and stared morosely into his cafeteria lunch. He wasn't ready for the Wonder Twins to slam their trays down across from him. He sighed heavily.

“Where's Danny?” Aidan. Aidan was the rude one. Well, ruder.

“Why don't you ask his boyfriend?” Stiles suggested, with a pointed look at Ethan.

“His phone's off and I haven't seen him since yesterday,” Ethan said. “He had something to do last night, so we didn't meet up.”

“Did you try to pick him up this morning?” Stiles asked. Ethan and Aidan exchanged a look.

“I knocked and waited for twenty minutes,” Ethan said. “No answer.”

“Smell weird?”

“Like salt water,” Aidan said instantly.

“He has a salt water pool,” Ethan countered.

“It was stronger than that,” Aidan shot back.

“I'm sensing some sibling tension-”

“I'm worried.” Ethan cut him off. “He always answers his phone.”

“True,” Stiles mused.

“Hey guys.”

Stiles leaned to the right and saw Danny himself behind the twins, grinning sheepishly.

“Jesus, Danny. What happened?” Ethan's hands were at Danny's chin, gently tipping his head.

Danny sported three long, deep scratches, from his ear to collarbone. As if someone had gone for his throat and missed. The wounds were freshly stitched, still an angry red and swollen.

“It's a long story,” Danny said. He gently pulled Ethan's hands down. “A tree, my car. Very sad. Um, can I talk to Stiles for a minute?”

Ethan and Aidan glanced at each other.

“Alone?” Danny prompted.

“Call me,” Ethan implored. He brushed his fingers along Danny's arm before he and Aidan picked up their trays and left. Danny sank into the chair opposite Stiles with a wince.

“You look like you went four rounds with a grizzly bear, dude,” Stiles said. He leaned over his lunch tray and lowered his voice.

“You're into weird shit, right?” Danny asked. “Like witches and vampires?”

“Um. No, sorry, I don't know anything about witches and werewolves-” Stiles froze. “Like, why would I know anything about werewolves? They don't exist, right? Right. And witches, you mean that New Age Pagan crap, right? I dabbled in it for a bit in freshman year but-”

“Something's after me,” Danny said. “I know you, McCall, and Jackson were up to something last year. I was hoping you could help me.”

“I don't know anything,” Stiles maintained.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “So virgin sacrifices mean nothing to you?”

Stiles groaned.

“Look, come by after school. We can talk then. More privately,” Danny said. He stood and walked out of the cafeteria.

Stiles could feel the twins' eyes on him for the rest of the period.

 

 

After the last bell, Stiles sat in his Jeep, phone in hand. He dropped his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. Juggling his phone between both hands, he took a few steadying breaths. He was exhausted. Deaton hadn't told them how much sheer effort would go into daily routines like socialising.

The phone landed in his lap and he started. He grabbed it and drew up Derek's information.

 _somethings going down again. not sure if wolf related. plz txt._ Stiles tapped the message and sent it before he could change his mind. Then he stared. And waited.

Ten minutes passed with no response. Stiles chucked his phone onto the floor of shotgun's seat, and threw the Jeep into gear.

Danny lived in the rich part of town. Stiles was hard pressed to keep his jaw shut as he passed by mansion after mansion, with brick driveways and perfectly manicured lawns. Some of the cars in the street were worth more than six of Stiles' lifetimes, and he suddenly wished he had walked.

Danny waited for him to tumble out of his Jeep, and escorted him into a massive, extravagantly decorated house. Stiles whimpered upon stepping over the threshold. “I think I'm lowering your property value just standing here.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Danny said. His eyes were warm. “You're my friend. Come in.”

The kitchen expanded upwards with a ceiling like a cathedral's, spacious and open and crisp white wood. Sunlight poured through the generous wall of windows and lit a small island where a bowl of pretzels sat.

“You eat pretzels,” Stiles said dumbly.

“Do you?” Danny asked, pausing.

“But... normal people eat pretzels,” Stiles said. “Shouldn't you be eating fresh fish eggs or something gross like that?”

Danny paled slightly and coughed as Stiles stared at him. Danny cleared his throat. “Fish eggs aren't really high enough in protein for this time of day,” Danny said.

“Neither are pretzels,” Stiles pointed out.

“Eat the damn pretzels, Stiles.”

They sat down at the island and hunched over the bowl, snacking and staring out the windows awkwardly. Stiles' leg jittered erratically, creating the only sound besides their teeth crunching dried dough and salt. Stiles swallowed loudly and decided to just go for it.

“What really happened to your face?”

“I'm not human,” Danny said at the exact same time.

Stiles and Danny froze, their mouths hanging open.

“What?” Stiles managed.

“I'm not human,” Danny repeated.

“No, no. I heard that part. _What_!?”

Danny sighed heavily. He pushed himself up from the island stool and rounded it to Stiles' side. Without a word, he inhaled, lifted his shirt, and bared his ribs to Stiles. Before Stiles' eyes, slits formed along the smooth skin of Danny's side. They flapped gently, closing and opening. And then they were gone.

“You have gills,” Stiles said, his mouth dry. “Why do you have gills?”

“I'm not human,” Danny said again.

“God damn it, I heard you the first time. What are you!? Some kind of-” It clicked. “Holy crap. _You're a mermaid_!”

“Jesus, Stiles. You are an actual two year old. I'm a mer. If you have to call us something, we prefer merfolk.” Danny lowered his shirt.

“There's more of you!?”

“Not many out here. There were more of us in Hawaii,” Danny said. “Can you help me?”

“Help- What? What do you want me to do?” Stiles couldn't stop staring at the spot on Danny's shirt which hid his gills. Mermaid. An actual mermaid. God, he hoped Yeti weren't real...

“There is something out here that is after me,” Danny said. “My parents are out of town with my brothers- yes, all mer- so right now I'm the only one in danger but if it's still here when they get back...”

“Okay. Okay.” Stiles stood. “I know some people who know some people. Did you see it? What attacked you?”

“It was...” Danny exhaled in frustration. He pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “It called to me. Put me into some sort of trance. I was only able to get away because Ethan called my phone three times. Please don't tell him.”

Stiles stared at Danny, dumbfounded.

“He can't know. If this thing won't leave me alone, I don't want him hurt,” Danny said, words tripping over themselves in his haste.

“You- He doesn't-” Stiles found himself in one of those rare occasions where he was completely at a loss for words. “But-”

He slapped himself in the forehead, and the pain helped bring back his focus. Danny watched him with wary eyes, anxious. “You can't tell anyone.”

“You should, um, tell Ethan,” Stiles said. “He... might be more understanding than you think. Um. Yeah... Take it from Matchmaker Stilinski. Understanding...”

Danny frowned. “You're going to go home and tell Scott, aren't you?”

Stiles grimaced. “Yeah. I have to! He's my research buddy. Once you have your talk with Ethan, I'll show you the rest of my pack.”

“Pack?” Danny mouthed the word as Stiles beat a hasty retreat to his Jeep.

Stiles dove onto his stomach on the driver's seat and grabbed his phone. One text from Derek.

Shaking slightly, Stiles opened it.

_scott can handle it_

“You stupid, self-effacing, son of a bitch- no offence Talia.” Stiles hissed. “Please don't haunt me forever. The only thing worse than a poltergeist is a wolf poltergeist-”

He tapped out a quick message to Derek. _what do you know about mermaids_

He hauled himself upright in the driver's seat and dialed Scott with one hand as he drove. “Scott, can you come over? I need your help.”

“Right now?” Scott panted on the other end of the phone. A dirty moan punctuated his words.

Stiles yanked the phone away from his ear. “ _Scott_! Seriously, man!?”

Stiles thought he heard his name murmured in the background when Scott's voice returned. “I can't help it. They jumped me. It was an ambush, I tell you. I had no preparation-”

“Stiles, honey.” Allison's voice fed through the line next. “How badly do you need him? I can send Lydia over. If you're researching that would be best anyway. She's so much smarter than him.”

“Hey!”

Stiles pulled to a stop at a red light and squeezed his eyes shut. “You three are putting extremely horrifying mental images in my head about my best friend that I really don't need. Have fun. Just. Not... Crap!”

He hung up and dumped the phone on the floor again, so it wouldn't distract if Scott called back to apologise. He could just leave a message. Lydia's car was already in the drive when Stiles pulled into his house, as was his father's car. Stiles snatched his phone and went into the house.

Lydia and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, one of Dad's cases spread out over the laminate wood.

“Dad! You're letting her help you?” Stiles asked, mock outrage in his voice. “That's so not fair!”

“She's actually... very, very smart,” Dad said. He leaned back in his chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I'll leave you to it, though. Thank you, Ms Martin.”

“Lydia.” Lydia fluttered her eyelashes with a sultry smile. Dad coughed awkwardly, and Stiles grabbed Lydia's arm and hauled her up.

“Do not make eyes at my dad, that is just creepy,” Stiles said. “Also I have things to tell you about Danny you would not believe.”

“I doubt that,” Lydia said as Stiles propelled her up the stairs into his room.

“Keep your door open!” Dad called from the kitchen.

“Holy hell,” Stiles said. He raised his voice. “Does anyone around here think about anything other than sex!?”

“ _Stiles_.” That was his warning voice.

Stiles shook his head and threw himself into his computer chair. Lydia sat primly on his bed. “Okay,” she said. “Shock me.”

“Danny's a mermaid and there's something trying to eat him,” Stiles said in one breath. His revelation was met with silence, and he turned to find her staring at him. “Oh come on. Werewolves, kanimas, evil druids, and the mermaid is what throws you?”

“What's after him?” Lydia asked.

“I don't know. I'm waiting for Derek to respond to my text. I want to see what he knows, to see if we can get a launch point for our research,” Stiles said. “He said he was disoriented and he can't remember anything from last night.”

“Last night was the full moon,” Lydia said. Her eyes flashed. “Could it have been one of the wolves?”

“No. Scott would have known if someone hurt another creature. He would have told me.” Stiles leaned back and spun his chair a bit. “Do you still have the beastiary?”

Lydia reached into her purse and pulled out the memory stick with Gerard's notes on it. Stiles pushed away from his computer desk. “Here. Use my computer. I'll start looking on Google for anything that isn't Disney. Hopefully we can find something.”

She stuck his computer with the USB drive and pulled up the beastiary. She and Allison were working on a translation for it, but with everything that happened with the Alpha pack they hadn't gotten very far.

Stiles leaned against his bed, laptop in his lap, and checked his phone. The Sourwolf had deigned to send a response. How kind of him.

_a siren or a mer_

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed. There were different types? Hell if he knew. _just a mer. i think_

_mers aren't dangerous exactly._

Stiles frowned. _what do you mean exactly_

_things that eat them are worse._

“We're looking for something that eats mers,” Stiles said. Lydia hummed acknowledgement. _what eats mers?_

_bad things_

Stiles growled in frustration. He jammed the _Call_ button, long distance be damned. It rang once and dropped immediately in voicemail. That jerk refused his call!

“You need that,” Lydia said mildly when Stiles threw the phone across the room. Folding his arms over his chest, Stiles sulked. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Derek being his usual dumb self,” Stiles said. “He refuses to answer anything in a coherent way.”

“At least he's responding to you,” Lydia said. She spun in the chair. “He hasn't answered Scott or Allison.”

“What? Scott tried? That lying liar.” Stiles sank back against the headboard. “Why would Derek answer me? Scott's his wolfy brethren.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “For all the smarts you have, you're kind of dumb.”

“Thanks. Can you get back to translating. Or, whatever you were doing.” Stiles pulled his computer back into his lap and slammed some keywords into Google. Maybe if he hit the keys hard enough the internet would sense his desperation.

The internet told him exactly nothing. He gave up after two hours and twenty iterations of 'mermaid for lunch'. Which. He hadn't known what _guro_ was before today.

Pass the brain bleach, please.

“I think I found something,” Lydia said. “It reads like some sort of Lovecraftian horror mythos.”

“Cthulu?” Stiles was off the bed and over her shoulder in the span of a breath.

“Or one of its nastier brothers,” Lydia said.

“Cthulu is fear incarnate. What could be nastier than that? Besides the internet.”

Lydia shrugged daintily and pointed to an image on the screen. “If we assume the lake as a point of origin, the sphere of influence reaches Danny's development. The only problem is, all the information points to this being a salt-water dweller. The lake is fresh water.”

“If it's intelligent it can adapt, right?” Stiles asked.

“Biological adaptation doesn't quite work like that,” Lydia said. “If it was born in fresh water... But that means it's been here for decades.”

“The lake has a disproportionate number of suicides,” Stiles said. “Compared to others in the county.”

“Can you find exactly how many? And when the trend spiked?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles said. His phone buzzed, and Stiles all but threw himself at the device.

Danny.

“Hello?” Stiles gripped the phone to his ear.

He heard deep, hoarse mouth-breathing on the other end. Danny's soft laugh followed, and then Danny said, “Stiles, did you know?”

“Uh. Know what?”

“I always wondered why it was so easy to get away on full moons,” Danny said. He groaned obscenely. “You knew.”

“Yeah. That's gross, Danny. Why are you calling me now?”

“Danny, hang up,” Ethan's voice murmured in Stiles' ear.

“Seriously!? People need to stop calling me while making out.” Stiles hung up for them.

“Voyeur,” Lydia said. “Very classy.”

“Not on purpose!” Stiles protested. He groaned.

“You and Scott should check out the lake.” Lydia stood and swung her bag over her shoulder. “I'll keep looking to identify the thing.”

His father was already in bed when Lydia left, and Stiles closed the door to a depressingly quiet house. He swallowed back the rising swell of loneliness and made his way back to his room. It was always worst at night.

Lydia's presence had created a cocoon of warmth in Stiles' room, and she had taken it with her when left. Stiles stood in the doorway, caught between desperately needing human contact and the immediate urge to burrow under the covers and never come out. He couldn't parse the feelings, and if he thought about it he would trigger a panic attack. The only thing to do was try and sleep.

Which, of course, meant grappling with the insomnia Stiles suffered even before the Nemeton.

His smartphone was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him. He could lay in bed and carry on researching or crushing candy without waking his father. He tapped out a quick update to Derek and was about to start another game of sweet goodness when his phone pinged.

_what are you doing up?_

_can't sleep. researching_

_anxious?_

_no. just can't sleep. happens with mortals sometimes_

Then, as Stiles stared incredulously, the _Incoming Call: Derek_ screen flashed. Frowning, he picked up. “Hello?”

“What's wrong?” Derek's voice sounded so far away.

“Why did you call me?” Stiles nearly bit through his tongue. Of course that's the first thing out of his mouth. Because he was incapable of social interaction.

Though, Derek wasn't any better.

“It's three in the morning,” Derek said. “Why are you up?”

“Where are you?” Stiles was seriously going to wire his mouth shut to stop him from saying stupid things. Everything he tried to say came out completely different. He couldn't get a handle on anything in his mind, it was spinning too fast. “Why did you leave?”

“I didn't call for you to interrogate me. I had to sort out some things,” Derek said, voice hoarse.

“Like how you almost got everyone killed _again_ with your dick?” Stiles felt anger seep into his bones, sending heat through him in a rush.

“I'm hanging up.”

“ _No!_ ” Stiles clenched the phone until his fingers ached. He closed his eyes and dragged in a ragged breath. “No. Please...”

“Talk to me, Stiles,” Derek said.

So he did.

 

 

Talked until he literally passed out. He woke with his phone stuck to his cheek and Derek's number blinking at him. But he slept. Slept so hard, in fact, that he couldn't remember what they had talked about. A quick text query to Derek returned:

_just mers and their lacross skills_

Stiles smirked. Sounded like his brain. He swiftly tapped out, _thx for last night_.

_np_

And that was that. Stiles got out of bed feeling remarkably refreshed, in a way he hadn't felt since the Nemeton.

“You look good,” Lydia remarked in Chemistry. “Are you sleeping better?”

They were both all too familiar with Allison's night terrors. Another side effect.

“Derek and I went over some theories,” Stiles said.

Lydia nodded, pursing her lips. “Anything viable?”

“Not really. He doesn't know much more than we do,” Stiles said.

“You don't remember what you said last night,” Lydia surmised.

“Not a word,” Stiles confirmed.

“Cute. You're cute,” Lydia said. She smiled and touched his shoulder. “You should talk to him often if it helps you sleep like this.”

Stiles scrubbed his eyes with both hands. “I don't even know what happened. I just... passed out. Mid-sentence. Oh god, I probably snored at him!”

Lydia laughed, and the sound soothed Stiles. Laughter helped. Helped a lot. Making people laugh helped the most.

Her laughter stayed with him the entire day, a much needed break of sun in the permanent overcast that was now his psyche. Wow. Depressing.

Scott met him at his locker after the last bell. “Wanna tell me where we're going?”

“Something in the lake tried to eat Danny,” Stiles said. He slammed his locker shut and slung his pack over his shoulder. “We get to investigate.”

“Allison and Isaac are on night watch rotation,” Scott said. “They can cover us.”

Stiles clapped Scott's shoulder. “Look at you, having a plan! My little werewolf pup is all grown up-”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Scott grinned and bumped shoulders with Stiles as they made their way to Stiles' Jeep.

Allison and Isaac were already there, leaning easily against the vehicle. Scott greeted each with a lingering kiss, and Stiles made his discomfort known by coughing explosively and obnoxiously. Allison giggled, breaking the kiss, and she and Isaac climbed into the back seat.

Stiles parked at one of the hiking trails lots and slumped in his chair, staring at the expanse of water in front of him. “Oh. It's huge.”

“It's a lake, Stiles,” Scott said. “You've been out here before, right?”

“I don't remember it being this big.”

“The swimming beach is closed in by hills,” Isaac offered. “That would make it look smaller, if you've been there.”

“Probably,” Stiles said, still staring.

Scott and Allison hopped out of the Jeep, and Allison popped the trunk to get her gear. While she suited up, Scott and Isaac tested the air.

“It's the same scent,” Isaac said. “Rotting fish... and salt.”

“Gross,” Stiles said. “I don't smell anything.”

“You feel it, though,” Allison prompted. She emerged from behind the Jeep, camo-ed out with a strung bow over her shoulder.

Now that she mentioned it, Stiles could feel something in the air. Like the breeze was slimey and slick against his skin. The hair on his arms stood up and he shuddered. “Not cool.”

“Keep in touch,” Scott said to Allison.

She nodded and headed into the forest at a brisk jog. They developed a check-in call for the human members of the pack. For training, and for when they were just messing around. Allison perfected the mockingbird cry, and Stiles was working on his pigeon warble. Check-in was every hour on the :42, as designated by Stiles. He was particularly proud of the check-in plan. It worked flawlessly.

Stiles took his bat, Scott grabbed a baseball, and they split from Isaac to move towards the beach. Isaac vanished into the overgrowth. If anyone asked, they were playing baseball. No need to mention the wolfsbane ointment smeared all over the bat. Or the powdered mistletoe trapped by the leather stitching of the ball.

Precautions.

“Ugh.” Scott wrinkled his nose. “The stench is getting worse. It smells like death.”

Stiles still couldn't smell it, but nausea rolled his stomach over, and the hair rose at the back of his neck. As if something in his hind brain knew evil lurked nearby. Chills rippled down his spine. He really did not want to be here.

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinked and swallowed hard. Scott's eyes were on him, fiercely concerned. “There's-” Stiles swallowed again, trying to get a hold of himself. “There's definitely something here.”

“It's okay,” Scott said. His eyes flashed red. “I feel it too. We stick together. We'll be all right.”

Scott's freaky Alpha powers didn't work on him, but Stiles believed the calm timbre of his voice.

“How have you been?” Scott asked as they made their way along the lake. “I heard Allison was on call the last full moon.”

“Yeah. It's always worse at night,” Stiles said. Scott hummed in agreement. “We watched bad scifi and passed out on the couch. You're lucky. You and Allison have Isaac. And each other.”

Scott looked pained. “We're here for you, Stiles, you know-”

“It's not the same.” Stiles kicked a twig out of his path.”I'm super grateful, don't get me wrong... But... You know what I mean.”

A soft sound of discontent escaped Scott's throat, and he reached for Stiles. Stiles watched him, and Scott's hand slipped along the bottom of his hoodie. Warm skin brushed against Stiles', and Scott fisted a hand in the fabric of Stiles' shirt. His touch burned, but Stiles needed it so badly. He closed his eyes and could feel almost every muscle in his back unlock. “No homo,” Scott said.

Stiles burst out laughing. The tension snapped in him, and he physically could not stop. He bent in two, Scott's arms looped around his back, and gasped for breath around fits of laughter. As if he had never laughed before.

He laughed until he was out of breath, tears streaming down his face. When he could finally feel the rest of his body, he found they had collapsed to the ground, Scott gripping him close.

“Hey. Okay. You're good. Breathe.” Scott murmured against the back of his neck. “Now you can't deny that I'm hysterical.”

“You went there.” Stiles groaned and wiped his face with a dirty sleeve. “I'd hate you if it wasn't so damn clever.”

“Ready?” Scott asked. He held a hand to Stiles.

Stiles grasped it and let Scott pull him up. “Ready.”

He felt better. His skin didn't feel like it was crawling anymore, but he felt like he might fly apart from nervous energy. Manic energy was the worst. He wanted to do everything, but couldn't decide where to start or even how to begin looking. And it drove him crazy. Scott was a warm, steady presence at his side.

“I don't know what's going on with my brain,” Stiles said.

“Me neither,” Scott responded. “But we saved our parents.”

Perspective.

Depression was nothing compared to what Stiles would have suffered if he had lost his father.

Stiles blinked when he saw Scott toe off his sneakers and roll up his pant legs.

“Scott, I love you, man, but nobody needs to see that.”

“I want to see if I can sense anything in the water,” Scott said.

Stiles stood unmoving on the sand, straining to hear while Scott moved deeper into the water.

Silence settled between them.

Complete silence.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. He didn't hear anything. No birds. No bugs. Nothing.

“Scott.” Stiles whispered, afraid to break the intense quiet. “Scott, come back-”

He knew Scott could hear him. Scott paused, and then jerked. Flailing, he went down with a splash.

Stiles leapt at him, hauling him out of the water.

“It's got my leg!” Scott grunted in pain. He sprung his claws and slapped at the water.

A shrill, awful shriek bubbled up from the depths of the water. Scott was suddenly free, and then he was dragging Stiles out of the water, limping.

“Oh shit!” Stiles twisted out of Scott's grasp. “That's a tentacle!”

Scott growled and tore the wriggling thing from his leg. It was huge, twisted around the length of his thigh. It flopped onto packed sand, still twitching.

Scott wiped his hand in his shirt as Stiles crouched in front of the thing. He prodded it with the bat and it spasmed.

“Gross.”

Stiles looked up to see Isaac moving towards them. Allison was close behind, bow drawn.

“What is it?” Allison asked.

Stiles poked it with his finger. It wrapped around his arm lightning fast, and he fell back on his ass with a yelp.

Isaac and Scott lunged for him, and before he could blink the tentacle was in ribbons at his feet.

“Ugh. It's slimy!” Stiles scrubbed at his arm. The wetness spread and stuck to his hoodie. “Gross. Scott! This is your fault.”

“Well, we found something,” Scott said. “We should probably take the, uh, pieces to Deaton. He might know what it is.”

They piled back into the Jeep after a quick change (Stiles always had spare clothes now. Always), and Stiles took them to Deaton's.

 

 

“I've never seen it before,” Deaton said. He stared down at the shreds of tentacle on his table. “Not this far in land.”

“So you know what it is?” Scott prodded.

“It's a creature of darkness that feeds on large fish and sea creatures,” Deaton said. “Carnivorous. Intelligent.”

“Of course,” Stiles said. “Because our lives suck.”

“It's a cthulhu,” Deaton said.

“Hah! Knew it.” Stiles preened.

“Did anyone come in contact with its secretions?” Deaton asked. Scott and Stiles lifted their hands. “Shower. At least three times. Get it all off. It can cause intense anxiety and in some cases, hallucinations.”

“Fantastic,” Stiles said. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I'm going home and never coming out of my bath. Ever. Okay? Let's go.”

Stiles' skin was scrubbed pink by the time he was satisfied. He had dropped everyone at Scott's and couldn't shake the lump of jealousy that had coagulated watching the three of them enter the building together. It sat heavy in his chest as he threw himself onto the couch of his empty, cold house.

He reached for the television controller, but never picked it up. He didn't feel like watching anything. His stomach growled, but food was a massive effort away, and Stiles wasn't sure if he had the energy for it. There was no point anyway. Nobody cared.

_No. Bad._

Stiles closed his eyes and let his head fall against the couch back. Eating didn't matter. He wouldn't die from one missed meal.

Most likely.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, hoping something would magically switch in him to get him moving. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his phone blinking.

Message from Derek.

Stiles' hand hesitated over the phone. He wasn't exactly in the mood to trade barbs with the man who had almost gotten them killed multiple times. His hand fell, empty. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

His phone blinked again, this time with an incoming call. From Derek.

Stiles grunted into the receiver. “I don't want to talk to you.” 

“Stiles! Jesus. Stay on the line. Scott's on his way over,” Derek said in one breath.

“What? What are you talking about-”

“Just- Stay on the line. Talk to me.”

“About what? You hate listening to me talk.” Stiles sighed. “You're acting really weird and I don't have the energy to deal with you.”

“I want you to talk to me,” Derek said. His voice was rough, unused.

“D'you know what we did to save our parents?” Stiles stared at the ceiling, holding the phone loosely against his ear. He could just barely hear Derek breathing on the other end. The sacrifice was the first thing that popped into his head. Because it was always there. Haunting him, sucking the energy out of him until there was nothing left. Nothing but soul-crushing loneliness.

“I didn't know, Stiles,” Derek was saying. His words filtered through Stiles' thoughts, and Stiles grimaced. Had he said that out loud? “Jesus- I didn't know, Stiles, I'm so sorry-”

“It's not like you could have done anything,” Stiles pointed out. “It's not like you even _would_ have done anything.”

“Stiles- Don't-”

“I get it. You had your sister to worry about,” Stiles said. “I'm not mad. I mean, we could have used the help but... I get it. If my dad were sick like that...”

“Your father's fine, Stiles,” Derek said. “He's alive because of you.”

“I said 'if', Derek. If.” Stiles sucked in a ragged breath. Fuck. He was crying. As if he couldn't get any more pathetic. “It's so quiet here... I'm so alone-”

“Stiles, it's okay,” Derek said. His voice was low and calm. “I'm here-”

“Dude, you fucking left!” Stiles burst out. “You up and left without a word- Hell, there's a pool going to where you actually are. Are you even in this hemisphere? You're not here, don't give me that bullshit-”

“I'm sorry-”

“Stop _apologising_.” Stiles breathed deep in the silence that followed his explosion. “Just... Stop apologising. If you needed to take time that's okay. Just... You affect people here. Just know that... I thought we were friends, at least-”

“We are, Stiles- Christ- I didn't know-”

“It's okay,” Stiles said, steeling himself. He stared hard at the ceiling. “Everyone eventually leaves. It's okay. People move on. It's okay-”

Someone pounded on his front door, startling Stiles enough to drop the phone. He quickly swiped his sleeve over his eyes and face, and reclaimed his phone on his way to the door.

“Scott's here, you're off the hook,” Stiles said. He hung up without another word and opened the door. “Hey, man.”

Scott looked wrecked. His hair was everywhere, and Isaac and Allison stood behind him.

“Look, I hope you're not looking for snacks or anything, because I just word vomited all over Derek and I'm really not in the mood to entertain, even on the most basic level-”

Stiles didn't get a chance to finish. He was engulfed in Scott's arms, and as soon as he let his head hit Scott's shoulder he broke.

Isaac kept an eye out as Scott and Allison herded Stiles to his couch. They fell onto it together. Scott curled around Stiles as much as he could, and Allison smoothed her fingers through Stiles' hair.

“I'm sorry,” Scott said. “We shouldn't have left you alone. I didn't know that slime crap was so bad. I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah.” Stiles' voice was muffled in Scott's shirt. “How did you-?”

“Derek called me, and asked if anyone was here with you. I said no and he flipped his shit,” Scott said. “He knows about the cthulhu, and what it does.”

“I love you, man,” Stiles said. He burrowed into Scott's chest, not giving one shit that Scott's girlfriend was on top of him.

“It's okay. It's going to be okay. We have each other,” Scott said. “We're here for you.”

“Stiles, if you need more support, we want you to tell us,” Allison said softly. “We'll come. You know we will.”

“I know.” Stiles inhaled, the deep, shuddering intake of breath that followed a good, hard cry. “I know.”

Scott, Isaac, and Allison stayed the night. Allison curled in bed with Stiles, and Scott and Isaac piled on the floor in a warm, snuggly mess of blankets and limbs. Stiles slept hard that night, warmth around him to chase away the clawing darkness that was always at the edge of his mind.

 

 

Danny caught up with him during his study hall in the library, and sat down in the chair next to Stiles. He opened his mouth, caught sight of Stiles, and closed it. He started again. “Wow. I don't know who looks worse between the two of us.”

“You're the one with his face cut in half,” Stiles said. He sighed heavily. His energy levels were seriously waning, and his tolerance for humanity in general seemed to be eroding with each passing day. “Good news and bad news. We know what's in the lake. It's a cthulhu.”

Danny actually blanched. Like, his tan vanished and Stiles legitimately thought he was going to pass out. “That's impossible.”

“Oh, I guarantee it. We had a run-in with it yesterday,” Stiles said. “Tentacles, slime, the whole works. It's disgusting and huge. I would stay away from the lake if I were you.”

“The call of the sea,” Danny said. “It'll keep calling my family until we succumb. It'll kill us.”

Ethan appeared at Danny's back like some harbinger of catastrophe. “What is it?”

“It's a cthulhu. They kill mers,” Danny said. “One... One took my grandmother. That's why we moved here.” Danny's eyes went hard, calculating. “How is it surviving? It's a salt water creature.”

“Lydia thinks it was born in the lake and adapted,” Stiles said. He massaged his temple. The beginnings of a killer migraine were stirring, and he was not looking forward to it. “Ethan, will you stop hovering? You look like a pitty with prickers in its nose.”

Ethan flushed bright red, but sat down in the chair next to Danny. “How do we kill it?” Ethan asked.

“Already with the killing,” Stiles said. “Maybe we don't have to kill something for once. Maybe we can talk to it nicely and it can leave us alone.”

“It's a creature born of fear and anger,” Danny said. “I don't think it's going to listen to us.”

“That doesn't mean we don't try,” Stiles said. He rolled his eyes at Danny and Ethan's incredulous faces. “That's what Scott would say. I'm just his-” He paused, hesitating on the word. “-his emissary. You know how he gets when you say the 'k' word.”

“I don't think I'll be able to stop myself the next full moon,” Danny said. He glanced at Ethan.

Stiles shifted, leaning on the table to prop his head up with one hand. “So, explain this to me. How exactly does... the mermaid thing work?”

Ethan growled low in his throat and his eyes flashed blue, but Stiles ignored him. Ethan wouldn't do anything to him, as Scott's beta and beholden as he was to Stiles as the emissary. Ethan gave up all opportunity to touch Stiles when he gave up his Alpha powers to Scott.

Something Stiles fervently wished Aidan would do in the extremely near future.

“I can control the shift,” Danny said. “The full moons make it more difficult, and I'm more susceptible to the pull of the ocean. Our pool helps leading up to the full moon. But with my control weakened... if that thing calls again, I don't know if I'll be able to resist it.”

“What sort of call?” Stiles asked. “Singing? Like a siren?”

“It imitates the songs of my people,” Danny said. “Music... is different for us. We feel it in the frequencies generated, and it can influence our emotions and well-being. Our ears are extremely sensitive.”

“And you're in the _high school_ orchestra?” Stiles gasped. Danny scowled, unimpressed. “Sorry. But. Our orchestra aren't exactly savants. I'd be running screaming the other way.”

“It's not easy to make music in air naturally,” Danny said. Ethan reached for his hand and clasped it tightly. “I settled for the next best thing.”

“Is it a full tail or just webbed feet?” Stiles asked.

Danny sighed and caved to the inevitable. “You can come over tonight and I'll show you. Ethan's going to talk to Scott, whom I understand is the leader of your group? Really? McCall?”

“I said the same thing,” Stiles said with a shake of his head. “It didn't get me anywhere.”

 

 

 

Danny had prepared. The island in his kitchen overflowed with snacks, drinks, and finger foods as they all filed into his house after school.

“Let it not be said that mers do not provide.” Stiles circled the platters with a slightly predatory grin.

“Food after swimming,” Danny said. “Don't want you land folk getting cramps. Come on out back.”

Stiles followed Scott and Allison out into Danny's backyard, which cradled the most massive natural pool Stiles had ever seen. Complete with a stone waterfall hiding in the gentle curve of the pool's design. Before he could pick his jaw up off the pool deck, Scott and Isaac were in the water, wrestling like the five year olds they were.

Allison and Lydia sat down on the edge and dangled their feet in the water while Aidan walked in up to his chest and stood in front of Lydia, playing with her feet. Ethan stood on the walk in steps and kept his eyes on Danny.

Stiles watched as Danny entered the water, splashing it over his shoulders and chest, and then dove with barely a ripple. All eyes followed his trail of bubbles to the far end of the pool, where his head popped out of the water. He waved them down.

Stiles, Allison, and Lydia walked along the pool deck and stood. The clear water provided them a stunning view of Danny's form. His gills flapped on his ribs, taking in water and filtering it into life giving oxygen. Danny's torso merged fluidly into a long, lithe fishtail, navy blue in colour and flicking gently to keep him in place.

“That is so much cooler than fur,” Stiles said breathlessly. Allison hummed in agreement, and Scott shot her a wounded look.

“He can't talk while he's breathing water,” Ethan said helpfully. “Can you stop staring like he's some sort of freak show and let's get back to business?”

Stiles and the girls wandered back to the shallower end of the pool, where Ethan helped Danny out of the water. Danny coughed and choked up what looked like a lungful of water as his gills sealed along his ribs. He gasped a breath of air, and steadied himself against Ethan to stand.

“There you have it,” Danny said. He pushed wet hair back from his head. “I have a tail.”

“Wicked awesome tail,” Stiles said.

“Are you gonna show me yours?” Danny asked.

“Me? What? No- Uh, I'm not a-” Stiles babbled. He pointed to Scott and Isaac in the pool, their game faces on.

“Ew. Wet dog.” Stiles crinkled his nose.

Aidan shoved him in the pool fully clothed.

 

 

 

Rather than trek home and try to explain everything to their respective parents, Danny decided to have an over night cram session for the chemistry test that was rapidly approaching. Despite none of them having their textbooks.

It had made sense at the time.

Until Stiles lay awake on Danny's living room floor, feeling the hum of _something_ in his chest. Something deep down, clawing at his lungs and making it kind of hard to breathe.

Allison rolled over beside him and brushed her fingers against his arm. Her voice was the barest whisper in the darkness. “You feel it too?”

Stiles nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth he would start crying. He was surrounded by his friends, people that supported him, and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin to get away from them. They wouldn't even know he was missing. He could just... Get up and keep going. Going somewhere. Anywhere. And be out of this life.

Allison's fingers closed around his and suddenly they were standing. Stiles kicked his way free of the sheets they were bedded down in, and followed Allison to the front door of Danny's house. Stiles wasn't sure where his feet were taking him, but he and Allison seemed to be going in the same direction. Away from Danny's house. Into the forest.

Towards the lake.

The rational part of his brain started howling at him. Turn back. Bad. This was bad. Very bad.

But he didn't have the energy to listen anymore. He wanted to sleep forever.

Allison tugged him to a stop at the edge of the lake, their bare feet digging into the rough sand of the beach. Stiles turned to her and saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I don't know what to do anymore.” She gasped, her free hand over her mouth. “I want it to stop. I can't live like this.”

“It's okay,” Stiles said. He didn't believe himself. The water was cold against his feet. “It'll be okay.”

“Oh god- I don't want-” She shook her head violently, her hand shaking in Stiles' grip.

“I'm with you. I'll go with you,” Stiles said. He stared at the black expanse of water.

“They'll be stronger without us,” Allison said. Her lower lip trembled, but her face was determined. Allison, the forever warrior. Stiles now understood her particular brand of darkness was her humanity. The fact that she could potentially be the weak link. Beautiful, amazing Allison. Should never feel like that.

They took their first steps into the lake together, hands clenched tightly against the chill. All the hair went up on Stiles' arms from it, and it hurt more the deeper they went. Each step was like brushing against a knife blade, until they were up to their chests. The ice water was a vice around Stiles' chest, making it hard to take a full breath.

“I'm so sorry,” Allison said. Her teeth chattered.

“Me too. I'm sorry.”

Something wrapped around Stiles' ankle and tugged. He didn't even resist. Just slipped quietly under the surface into dark serenity.


	2. Interlude

“Isaac! Isaac! Wake up.” Derek grabbed Isaac by the collar and shook him, harder than necessary, but it did the trick. Isaac started awake with a snort.

“D-Derek!? What the fuck-”

“Come with me, hurry. Allison's in danger.” There wasn't time to explain. Derek could smell it in the air, the putrid stench of fish and decaying flesh. Fear. Blood.

Isaac was up like a shot and they ran. Derek would later feel guilty about breaking into Danny's house, but if the door was unlocked and open to begin with- How much was it really breaking in?

“One day you're going to tell us how you know this shit,” Isaac said as they ran. Derek grunted.

Stiles. He could smell Stiles, but it was tinged with something awful. Something Stiles should never smell of.

The smell led them to the lake. Derek and Isaac slid to a stop on the beach, where the trail died. Isaac looked down. He crouched. “This is Allison's footprint.”

He glanced across the water. “She went in.”

Isaac was in the water before Derek could blink, and Derek only had the presence of mind to shuck his jacket and shoes before plowing after Isaac.

The water was freezing. And pitch black. Derek couldn't see anything. Thrashing around for hours would do exactly nobody good, so he stilled, ignoring the way he started to sink.

He could hear Isaac's splashing and quickly tuned him out. There was something else vibrating in the water. A low frequency hum that Derek could barely hear with his enhanced hearing. It shuddered against the water and permeated, but there were brief patches of blank space.

Human shaped blank space.

Derek kicked towards them and one of his hands closed around an arm. He pulled hard, growling to let Isaac know where he was. The body wasn't moving.

Reaching out, Derek found a long, thick tentacle roped around the human's chest. He sliced at it with a claw, and the body floated free. Derek pushed immediately for the surface.

He burst into air a split second before Isaac, and the rotting fish smell overwhelmed him. Derek gagged, but gripped the body close to him and struck for the shore.

It was Stiles. Soaked, chilled to the touch, and not breathing.

Derek dragged Stiles' water-logged body onto the packed sand and dumped him onto his back before dropping to his knees.

“Allison- Oh god-”

A shriek pierced the air, and Derek jerked his head up to see Lydia standing where grass met sand, Ethan and Aidan running for them. No.

Banshee or not, Stiles was not dead.

Derek tipped Stiles' head back and pried open his mouth. He sealed his lips over Stiles' and forced a lung of air into his still chest. _Breathe_.

His heart beat. Derek heard it. Sluggish, fluttering, but beating, struggling to hold on. Derek couldn't let it give up.

He breathed for Stiles again, and heard Allison coughing and choking behind him. Along with Isaac's relieved cry that she was breathing. _Come on Stiles_.

Three minutes led to brain damage from oxygen deprivation. Derek forced another breath of air into Stiles' lungs. He could almost feel the resistance, the water taking up precious space when his body needed air. He wasn't able to stop the hoarse noise that escaped him as he leaned over Stiles again. Not another one. Dear god, please not another one-

Stiles jerked under him, and Derek just barely had time to snap back when water bubbled up out of Stiles' mouth. Derek quickly turned him onto his side, and Stiles vomited lake water onto the sand. He started to breathe, wet, rasping, and so very shallow- But breathing.

Derek sat back on his heels, shaking.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles woke up.

That in and of itself was kind of shocking, because Stiles remembered what had happened. He and Allison had walked into a lake.

They had...

Jesus.

A tear escaped from under a closed eye. So that was a thing that had happened. And he was still alive.

Cracking his eye, he was greeted with the familiar ceiling of Beacon Hills hospital. He had been saved. Somehow. He shifted, and found himself pressed up against warmth.

Allison's dark hair poked out from under the hospital bed sheets. She groaned, her fist tight in the front of his hospital gown. “Sleep. 's okay. They're watching us.”

Stiles slept.

When he woke next, his head was clearer and he was alone in the bed. The IVs had been removed, and he could sit up without much difficulty.

“Stiles.”

Stiles saw Scott uncurl himself from the floor. He balanced on Stiles' bed, and grasped Stiles' sheets in his fists. “Your dad just left- Mom had to kick him out, he'd been here all night-”

“What happened?” Stiles cut him off. His head was ringing and his throat hurt fiercely.

Scott quieted, which sent a strike of fear to Stiles' core. “Stiles...” Scott began. “You and Allison tried to kill yourselves.”

Stiles' breath stopped in his chest, and he stared at his best friend. He wasn't lying. Stiles remembered cold water closing over his head. Rippling darkness surrounding him. The tearing of water filling his lungs. Screaming.

“Derek says it's because you two were so close to the monster- With the Nemeton's darkness already there it was easier to-”

“What?” Stiles burst. Scott stopped, confused. “Did you just say 'Derek'?”

“Derek's the one that pulled you out. He came flying into Danny's house and grabbed Isaac and they took off,” Scott said. “He's been here all night too, out in the lobby. I don't think he's slept in two days.”

“W-Why is Derek here?” Stiles managed.

Scott shrugged. “Ask him yourself. He won't talk to any of us.”

Movement at the door drew both their attention, and Derek leaned against the frame looking pale and tragic. Scott, being the jerk that he was, nodded to Stiles and _ditched him_ , leaving him alone with Derek.

“Um.” Stiles failed to form his mouth around the words he needed to say. “Thanks for the save. Again. I guess we're even now... In the drowning department...”

“You need to be more careful,” Derek said. His voice was hoarse, and wow. He looked like he really hadn't slept in a week. At least. “The cthulhu makes dark feelings worse and worse until you bend to its will.”

“Why...” Stiles paused and tried again. “Why are you here?”

Derek frowned, his mouth turning down as his eyes narrowed. “You called to me.”

Stiles fell back against the pillow. “No, dude, _you_ called _me_ that night, remember?”

Derek shook his head. “No, Stiles. You called _to_ me. I could feel your pain. Even where I was.”

“W-Where were you?” Stiles almost didn't want to know. Didn't want to know how far Derek had to run to get away from everything he thought he caused.

“South America,” Derek said. He shifted awkwardly, as if he didn't want Stiles to know.

“South-” Stiles' jaw dropped. He had been right. “Jesus. Wait- If you were in South America... Did you fly back here? You really haven't slept at all, have you?”

Derek shook his head, face crinkling miserably. “I had to get here. I had to.”

“I'm sorry,” Stiles said. “I didn't mean to... call to you or whatever. You didn't have to come all the way back for me.”

“You would have died,” Derek said. “And the cthulhu would have gotten it's dinner.”

“Yeah but you and Cora were down there bonding or whatever, right?” Stiles pushed himself into a sitting position. He leaned back against the pillows and clasped shaking hands in his lap.

Derek stepped further into the room, and closer to Stiles. He reached Stiles' bedside and, with Stiles' eyes on him the entire time, lifted a hand to cup the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles closed his eyes at the warmth. The solid press of skin to skin grounded him in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. “Everyone always leaves me too. And I won't.”

Stiles smiled. He couldn't help it. Stupid Derek and his stupid... Half-formed sentences and thoughtless declarations. Heart before brain, that was their Derek all right. Stiles leaned his head against Derek's forearm, digging his fingers into Derek's skin.

“I'm still pissed at you,” Stiles said. “You left without saying anything.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Stiles said. “Just... Tell me next time.”

Derek ran his other hand through Stiles' hair. Someone clearing their throat made them jump, a sign of how exhausted Derek was that he hadn't heard Stiles' father enter the room.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said, smiling weakly.

The Sheriff crossed the room in three quick strides, and Derek stepped back to let him sweep his son into his arms. Stiles clung to him, shaking.

“Is this more of your werewolf stuff?” Sheriff Stilinski asked.

“Yeah, kind of. Sorry. We didn't plan last night well,” Stiles said. “We should have been better prepared. It won't happen again.”

“Don't,” Dad said. “It would be very embarrassing for the precinct if they discovered I had to handcuff my child to the stairs to keep him safe.”

Stiles flushed to the tips of his ears. “Dad!”

He bent over in a fit of coughing, and Dad ran his big hand up and down his spine to help soothe him through the spasms. When he finally relaxed, he leaned back against the pillows and glanced at Derek. “Look who's back in town!”

“Derek.” Dad greeted him with a nod.

“Sir.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

“They're going to let you go when I sign the release,” Dad said. “Are you going to be okay at home by yourself?”

Something cold stabbed at Stiles' lungs. He must have shown it on his face, because Derek stepped closer. “I can be with him.”

To Stiles' immense surprise, Dad nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Stiles sputtered, eyes wide in shock. “But- He-”

“He dragged your ass out of a freezing cold lake at three am in the morning,” Dad said. “He's okay in my book.”

Stiles couldn't stop staring as his dad left to spring him. Derek helped him out of the hospital bed after the nurses unhooked him, and even turned his back while Stiles changed out of his hospital gown.

When they reached Stiles' home, Derek sat him down on the couch and knelt in front of him. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. As if he had a degree in hospice care and hadn't spent the last seven years angsting like a pro.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You don't owe me anything,” he said.

Derek flinched, and his face hardened. “Excuse me?”

“You don't have to be here. You don't owe me anything,” Stiles said. He leaned back against the couch and spread his hands. “I don't know why you're here, dude. You don't even like me. You don't have to be here out of some sense of obligation. This time it actually wasn't your fault.”

“I want to help you,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Stiles asked, hating himself. He couldn't just accept. He couldn't just take what Derek was offering him. He was too broken.

“Because you won't leave me alone,” Derek said. “You're always there, even when I'm thousands of miles away underneath some Peruvian temple. You're always, always there and it's driving me crazy. I don't know if I want to mark you or maim you. The only thing I do know is I never want to hear you like that ever... ever again.”

“Watch it. That's dangerously close to 'caring',” Stiles said.

“You know what happens to people I care about,” Derek said quietly.

“Yeah.” Stiles caught and held Derek's eyes. “I'm not going to turn into a mass-murdering psychopath.”

Too soon. Derek's expression slammed shut and he got to his feet in one swift motion. Stiles reached for him and grabbed his shirt. “Sorry. I'm sorry. That was bad. Please-”

Derek paused.

“I'm sorry. I'm not myself. I don't know what my head's doing, and I'm so, so angry with you for just leaving like that,” Stiles said in a rush. “And it's no excuse but please don't leave me alone. Please.”

Derek sighed and sat down on the couch beside Stiles. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. He could feel Derek's eyes on him, watching. Waiting.

“Scott's been running training drills,” Stiles said, breaking the silence. Derek hummed, encouraging him to go on. “I came up with a really great idea for the humans to check-in. It's really brilliant.”

Stiles caught Derek up on the pack goings-on, until he couldn't talk anymore and they sat in silence listening to each other breathe. They had shifted closer from exhaustion, and Derek's breath puffed out evenly over Stiles' forehead. His warmth chased away the perpetual chill residing in Stiles' mind, and he slipped into darkness easily for the first time in weeks.

Stiles opened his eyes to Derek's face, slack in sleep, and their foreheads braced against each other. At some point during their sleep, their fingers had tangled, and Stiles gave Derek's hand a firm squeeze. Derek twitched, breath hitching as his eyelids fluttered before opening.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered in the intimate space between them.

“Sorry,” Derek said. He tried to shift away, but Stiles held him in place with a firm squeeze of his hand.

“I will slap you,” Stiles said. “Stop apologising for what you need.”

The look of vulnerability that flashed across Derek's face struck Stiles like a punch to the ribcage. His eyebrows drew together like he was trying to parse what Stiles meant, like it couldn't have possibly been aimed at him. Stiles closed the distance between them, and kissed Derek chastely on the lips.

Derek exhaled in surprise, but gave under the pressure of Stiles' lips. Derek let himself be nudged sideways, as ridiculous as that was. He let Stiles push him over onto his back, their mouths locked the entire way down. Derek drew his knees up around Stiles, surrounding him in warmth, and Stiles squished their chests together. He could feel Derek's heart thundering against his own, and Derek's hands shook when he cupped Stiles' face with such tenderness Stiles let out a gasp.

“Okay. This is-” Stiles said into the corner of Derek's mouth. “We're okay. This works.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Derek's arms surrounded his shoulders and gripped him tight. Stiles was shifted, and buried his face in Derek's throat, clinging to the front of his shirt.

They lay like that, breathing in the scent of each other, until Stiles' stomach protested lack of sustenance. Flushing red with embarrassment, they both moved to the kitchen and threw some food together.

“We need a plan to get rid of this thing,” Stiles said. He stirred some macaroni and cheese around on his plate. “Danny's worried it'll get him the next full moon.”

“Could you line the lake with mountain ash?” Derek asked.

“I _could_ , but that wouldn't stop it from luring humans into the lake,” Stiles said. He shuddered, remembering chill lake water. Derek touched his arm briefly before returning his attention to his own plate of food. “And maybe if we get rid of it... I won't feel-”

Stiles cut himself off, gripping the fork tightly. He shook his head. He knew what he signed up for. This was worth having his father alive. It was worth it.

“It's okay.” Derek said, his eyes intense and focused only on Stiles. “It's okay to feel like that.”

Stiles snorted. Getting a pep talk on emotions from Mr Stoney McStonepants. He smiled, though. He appreciated the effort. “You should listen to yourself talk, someday.”

“Those who cannot do...” Derek said with a sheepish smile.

“Teach,” Stiles finished.

“You could burn it out with mountain ash and mistletoe, probably,” Derek said. Stiles cocked his head.

“It lives in a lake. How exactly would we 'burn' it out?”

“Figuratively. If we spread enough mountain ash and mistletoe in the water it breathes, it'll be forced to the surface and we can take it out,” Derek said.

“That would require a fuckton of mountain ash,” Stiles said.

“Or a very strong spark,” Derek said with a smirk. Stiles grinned.

They gathered at Danny's house to plan. His parents were still out of town, convinced by Danny himself that they should extend their vacation for at least a few more days. Stiles had managed to procure a map of the lake and a guarantee from Lydia that they could use her family's boat.

Stiles spread the map out on the ground of Danny's living room and jabbed his finger at the swimming beach. “This is closed off by hills. It's our best chance at getting to it. If we can herd it into this spot, we can station distance fighters on the hills to prevent it's escape. Allison, that's where you and I would come in.”

“And the rope twisted in mountain ash,” she said, catching on.

“You fire the rope at me- Well, not _at_ me at me, and we stretch it across the lake to block it from crossing. The mountain ash will leak into the water, and force it towards shore. Where our band of wolfy partners will be waiting.” Stiles grinned around the circle at everyone.

Danny frowned. “What do I do?”

“You stay put, under Ethan's watch,” Stiles said. “In order to herd it into the swimming nook, we have to strategically bomb certain portions of the lake over the span of a few days. Which will lead us right up to the full moon. If you don't think you can be trusted alone, we want you safe.”

“You guys are risking your lives for me, I feel like I should be able to help somehow,” Danny said.

“You can help by keeping Ethan occupied,” Stiles said. “If Ethan is happy, Aidan is slightly less murderous, which makes everything run smoother.”

Aidan grunted, but quieted when Derek leveled a glare at him.

“Okay. So Team Human is going to start dropping mountain ash bombs into the lake. My dad and his department is going to conveniently ignore our littering for two weeks, and when we're ready to strike we'll gather again.” Stiles eyed Lydia. “You're still Team Human, by the way.”

Lydia pursed her lips and sniffed. “I should hope I'm coming with you. Unless you know how to pilot a boat.”

“Ah,” Stiles said. He hadn't thought of that. His brain had cut straight to the finished product of cthulhu dead on the beach. “Yes. That would be helpful wouldn't it?”

“Indeed,” Lydia said, unimpressed.

The mountain ash bombs worked beautifully. The wolves prowled the edges of the lake while Lydia, Stiles, and Allison boated back and forth, slowly making their way from one end of the lake towards the swimming nook. The process ended up taking them right up to the night of the full moon, and tensions ran high when Stiles called them together for the final briefing.

“One more time. Allison, you are-” Stiles started.

“I wait for Isaac's howl, then release the mountain ash rope at your flashlight.” She whipped her hair into a ponytail and lashed it in place.

“Danny?”

“I wait at home in the pool with Ethan,” Danny intoned. “The water will help calm my yearning for the ocean, and Ethan will have something to focus on.”

“Excellent.” Stiles checked his name off the list. “Isaac?”

“Wait until the monster is within reach of the beach and then howl for Allison,” Isaac said. He stared at the map, trying to memorise the features. “Then I regroup with Aidan and Scott, and make sure Scott doesn't do anything stupid.”

“Good. Derek?”

“I cover you while you spread mountain ash around the swimming part,” Derek said. “When you're in position I make sure Scott doesn't do anything stupid.”

“Good, good,” Stiles said over Scott's protesting. “Aidan?”

“Draw it from the water with my 'wolfy powers of alpha-dom' and help the others take it down,” Aidan said. Stiles lifted his eyebrows at him expectantly. Aidan sighed. “And make sure Scott doesn't do anything stupid.”

“Very good.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Scott started. “Just who exactly is the Alpha here-”

“Quiet, Scott. We're saving your ass,” Stiles said with a smirk. “Lydia, what are you going to be doing?”

“Running Comm Ops.” She tapped her Blutooth. “From the safety of the parking lot.”

“Yeah, try to keep the wailing to a minimum, okay? We don't need our ears blown out,” Stiles said.

“I will if nobody starts dying,” Lydia snapped back.

“Point. Did I forget anyone?” Stiles looked around the group. Scott lifted his hand, scowling. “Oh yes. Scott, your job is to not do anything stupid. Got it?”

“I hate you so much.”

“I know, bro.” Stiles clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “I think we're ready. Derek, you're with me. Once the park closes, we move out.”

They milled about Danny's kitchen waiting for the sun to go down. Once the sky had turned pink, purple, and orange, Stiles and Derek made their way to the swimming nook with a giant jar of mountain ash.

“I still can't believe you got rid of the Camero,” Stiles said when Derek parked. “That was a thing of beauty. And you trade it in for... for this. Seriously. You're like the Pack Mom now.”

Stiles slammed his door shut and stared at the lake, his breath halting in his lungs. Derek circled the Rav4 and gently bumped shoulders with Stiles. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, swallowing hard. “I'm good. I just-” He froze, biting his lower lip as he tried to form words. “I don't like it here.”

“I know,” Derek said. He touched the small of Stiles' back, warm comfort against the night's oncoming chill. “I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you.”

“Ooh, you're making me warm and tingly inside,” Stiles said. He jerked a thumb towards the lake edge. “Let's get this over with.”

“What does it feel like?” Derek asked as they made their way along the sand.

“What?” Stiles asked. He concentrated on the thin stream of mountain ash slipping through his fist. _Extend. Extend further._

“The Nemeton. What does it feel like?” Derek pressed.

“Um. It feels like... Depression, really,” Stiles said. “Everything that used to be fun isn't. And I just... Sometimes I want to just never get out of bed again. Sometimes I want to crawl out of my skin. Or tear it all off. Like I'll never be happy again. It's different day to day.”

For a while, all Stiles heard was the sifting ash through his fingers. Derek was silent beside him, trapped in his own world. The crickets and locusts were starting to rouse, filling the air with their calls. The noise soothed Stiles. It was familiar, and reminded him of warm summer nights spent looking at the stars with his dad. When he wasn't hunting supernatural horror-monsters in his spare time.

“How can I help you?” Derek asked. Stiles jumped, not expecting the break in the quiet.

He stared at Derek, the waning light casting his face in shades of gray and blue. The stars were coming out.

“We have a code word,” Stiles said. “ 'Going Dark Side'. If we need help, we call up someone and say that.”

Derek nodded. “That means you're bad off but don't know how to say it.”

Stiles hummed confirmation. Derek took a few steps ahead of him and glanced back.

“I want you to call me first,” Derek said. “I want... I want to help you.”

Warmth blossomed in Stiles' chest, and he closed the distance between them. “I'd like that.”


	4. Epilogue

The cthulhu plan almost went off without a hitch.

Turns out the fucker is pretty damn big.

Thanks to Lydia's quick thinking and Stiles' tactical planning, they managed to bring it down. Nobody died, and the only person injured was Scott because he was stupid and tried to use himself as bait and got dragged under.

Really. The pack had _one_ job.

After Stiles pumped water out of his lungs, Scott was fine and they set about the dubious task of cutting the cthulhu into manageable, disposable pieces. It was going to be kind of hard to explain the black, ink-like blood splattering the sand on the beach, but none of them could be bothered to deal with cleaning it.

Derek hung around in Stiles' room while Stiles used the shower, and then they switched. Derek came back to Stiles' room, toweling his hair, and sat on the bed while Stiles clicked around on the internet.

“How do you feel?” Derek asked.

“Good. I mean, good as I can get these days.” Stiles spun in his chair to face him. “We beat the baddie. Saved some lives. Ethan's getting laid... We done good.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Derek asked. He cocked his head, nailing Stiles with that intense stare.

Stiles swallowed. He didn't... _need_ Derek right now. The darkness was quiet, pushed back by the day's victories. But he wanted. Oh god how he wanted.

“Please?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

“Then come here.” Derek waved him over. Stiles stumbled in his haste and fell onto Derek who laughed, caught him, and hugged him close.

**Author's Note:**

> Diagnosed with depression myself, I tried to pull on my own experiences with the disease. I have tried to approach the topic with compassion and sensativity, and I hope that came across. I am open to discussion, in PM or in comments. Thank you for reading.
> 
> [List of resources](http://killyouranxiety.tumblr.com/tagged/resources)


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